


Favor for the Friend of a Friend

by clgfanfic



Category: Alias Smith and Jones, Wildside
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and Curry are asked to help out the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favor for the Friend of a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Alias Heyes & Curry #1 and later in Compadres #18 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

          Brodie Hollister leaned back in the leather chair, watching the Governor of the State of California angrily pace across Bannister's new oriental carpet.

          "JW, why don't you sit down before you wear a hole in that piece of rug?"

          "That," Bannister corrected, "is not a _rug_ , Brodie.  That is a genuine, hand-woven King's carpet from—"

          "I don't care where it's from, gentlemen," Governor Summerhayes cut in.  "We have to find a way to infiltrate that prison and get Sutton out, before it's too late."

          Vargus looked up from where he balanced the edge of one shining blade on the edge of a second, held daintily in his hand. "I still do not understand why we cannot just go in and take him out."

          "Because if we do, the men responsible will have time to cover their tracks, Vargus.  And if they do that, then this whole opium syndicate will just spring up again as soon as they find a new location.  I want them out of business, permanently.  Besides, I'm not certain he's still in the prison."

          "I can't believe you let Sutton go in there without talking to us first," Brodie growled, tipping his hat back angrily.

          "I merely mentioned to him that someone going in undercover would probably be the only way I would get to these men, Brodie.  I didn't ask him to do it.  Sutton took it on himself to go in, and I hate the fact that I haven't heard from him in over a week as much as you do, but once he got in how could I say no?  We have to assume they've discovered him and they know they're being watched; that's why we need new faces, but it has to be someone we can trust, totally."

          "Tall order," Bannister sighed, watching as the Governor continued his steady pacing.  Brodie was remaining remarkably calm, given that it was his son who was missing.  Still, the older man had often said he could feel what the boy was up to.

          "Wait a minute, wait a minute."  Summerhayes stopped, looking around at the men who called themselves the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside.  "Remember when I was in Denver a couple'a months back for that Governor's gathering?"

          Four heads nodded.

          "I was talking to ol' Moonlight.  He's the Governor over in Wyoming, and he told me about an amnesty program that he has going there."

          "So?" Prometheus asked.

          "Have any of you gentlemen heard of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?"

          Bannister let out a soft, low whistle.  "You're talking about a couple of real smooth characters, JW.  They were the best.  There wasn't a bank or train safe this side of the Missouri they didn't have an eye on."

          "Haven't heard anything about them for a quite a while," Brodie added.  "You saying they're part of that amnesty thing?"

          "I am," the Governor nodded.  "Now, Moonlight hasn't come out and actually given them an amnesty, as of yet.  The legislature's a bit too conservative for a move like that, given their reputation, but he did tell me that they've managed to stay honest for nearly three years now.  Quite an accomplishment in itself.  It certainly means they're resourceful.  They've also been responsible for helping quite a few people, and saving a sheriff's life t' boot."

          "Who would that be?" Brodie asked, his curiosity and hope rising.

          "Travore, or Trevors, I think the Governor said.  Either way, it was the same Sheriff they approached about getting into the amnesty program to begin with."

          "Trevors," Brodie corrected.  "Lom Trevors.  I knew him down in Texas.  Good man.  Just what did you have in mind this time, JW?"

          "Just this – we wire Trevors and Moonlight and explain the problem.  If they can convince Heyes and Curry to go in on it, it would give us two highly resourceful men we could trust and it should be worth an amnesty to them."

          "What makes you think they'll risk their lives for Sutton?" Prometheus asked from where he had been lying, stretched out beneath his hat on the couch.

          "Just a hunch," Summerhayes said.  "It's dangerous, but then, so is riding around the countryside with a twenty thousand dollar reward on their heads.  Besides, they have ethics."

          "It sounds as though they would make good members of the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside," Vargus said, flipping the balanced blade into the air.  It fell, the tips of the two blades meeting in the softest of rings, perfectly balanced.

          "They do indeed," Brodie nodded,  "They do indeed, but I want to meet these two first, JW.  I don't like relying on strangers to do our hunting for us, especially when Sutton's life is at stake."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Soapy Sanders sipped his tea and watched the two sleepy men who sat across from him each reach absently for the coffee pot.  The silver server rocked dangerously on the matching tray and the old man reached forward to scoop it up by the gracefully arced handle before it toppled over.

          "Allow me, boys."

          Hannibal Heyes and Jed "Kid" Curry smiled sheepishly at their host.

          "Sorry, Soapy," Heyes said.  "The last four days have been, well, among our worst, shall we say?"

          "Do you have any idea when the Governor might be able to grant you your amnesty?"

          "Not before we have to face another crazy bounty hunter—"

          "Or another posse with an Apache in it," Heyes cut in on his partner.

          "Or some well meaning Sheriff who—"

          Soapy burst into laughter, silencing the two ex-outlaws.  "I see the past few days have been harder on your spirits than your saddle sores."

          Heyes smiled ruefully.  "We're just tired, Soapy.  Tired of always looking over our shoulders, tired of always being on the run… always suspicious of every person we meet… leaving good folks behind…"  He trailed off, finishing by sipping on the hot coffee and shaking his head sadly.

          The butler entered carrying the morning paper and handed it to the older gentleman.  He bowed slightly before he turned and left.

          "Where'd you find him, Soapy?" the Kid asked, amused at the man's starched formality in the presence of two wanted outlaws who'd been on the trail for several days, and looked like it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Here it is!" Prometheus called as he entered Bannister's back office.

          "Well?" Brodie asked after the large man had handed it over to Bannister.

          "The wire to the Governor was forwarded to Trevors.  The Sheriff sent out a wire to Heyes and Curry's most likely contact.  So all we have to do now is wait for them to arrive if they accept our gracious invitation," the Emporium owner said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two ex-outlaws worked on their breakfast while Soapy amused himself alternately watching them and reading the paper.  Turning the page, he stopped short and re-read the ad that sat, girdled with several bold lines: Attention J. Smith and T. Jones of Wyoming, your presence requested at important meeting of Wildside Chamber of Commerce.  RSVP.

          "Gentlemen," Soapy said and the pair looked up from their plates.  "I believe this was meant for you."  He held up the paper for them to read the invitation.

          "Now what?" Curry exploded.

          "Easy, Kid, easy.  Maybe it's not for us.  There are a lot of Smith's and Jones's out there.  That might be John Smith and Tom Jones from Cody, Wyoming, for all we know."

          "Heyes, why don't I believe you?"

          "Probably for the same reason I don't," the dark-haired ex-outlaw mumbled.

          A knock at the front door brought the Kid half out of his chair, gun in hand.

          "I'll see to this," Soapy said.  "You boys stay in here.  If it sounds bad, leave through the back.  There are two horses waiting in the barn."

          The old con-man left, closing the door to the study behind him.  The partners waited nervously, their ears pressed to the closed door, for several minutes before Soapy returned, holding out a telegraph.

          Heyes accepted the paper and unfolded it, reading aloud:  "To Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones care of Mr. Sanders, Knob Hill, San Francisco, California.  The cousin of our friend in Wyoming wants to see you in California.  Stop.  Our friend wants you to help him.  Stop.  Could mean a change in your community standing if all works out.  Stop.  Sounds serious.  Stop.  Be careful.  Stop.  Contact the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside, California.  Stop.  Lom Trevors, Sheriff, Porterville, Wyoming. Stop."

          They stood silently for a moment before Curry asked, "You think it's a trap?"

          "If so, they're getting damned creative these days," Heyes said.  "Soapy, you know anything about this place?  Wildside?"

          "No,  I'm afraid not, but I have met Governor Summerhayes on several occasions. He strikes me as a fair man.  That _is_ the 'friend' the telegraph refers to, is it not?"

          "I think so."  Heyes turned to his partner.  "You know what this means?"

          "I know it means trouble, Heyes.  I can feel it."

          "It means we'll get our amnesty if we go along with whatever this Summerhayes wants."

          "I don't believe it," the Kid said, shaking his head.  "And I don't like it."

          "Neither do I, but I don't see what choice we have.  I don't know about you, Kid, but I've had enough."

          Curry nodded silently.  He knew Heyes was tired of running, and so was he.  Maybe it would be better to face whatever waited in Wildside than to keep on like they had been. 

          "Soapy, can you get a reply off to this Chamber of Commerce of Wildside for us?" Heyes asked.  "Let them know J. Smith and T. Jones are coming for a visit?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Wonder when they'll get here," Prometheus mused aloud while he and Brodie sat near the town square and watched the daily swirl of life in Wildside.

          "Well, I guess that depends on where they're coming from, now, don't it," was Brodie's half-annoyed reply.

          Prometheus nodded, then rose and walked over to join Bannister, who had exited the Emporium.  Brodie was upset, and he was a pain in the rear when he got like that.

          "You do not care for this idea?" Vargus asked Brodie, walking up to take Prometheus' place.

          "I don't like bein' left out of the action, that's all.  I know JW thinks these two can get the job done, and from all I've heard, maybe they can, but—"

          "It is Sutton, no?"

          "Yeah, I guess it is, Vargus.  I've gotten so scared I'm afraid to let myself worry for fear—"

          "I understand, my friend, and you dislike missing a good hunting trip?"

          Brodie smiled.  "Yeah, I hate missing a good huntin' trip."

          The four men watched as Heyes and Curry rode into town.  The pair scanned the streets efficiently and thoroughly.  Brodie's admiration took a jump toward the positive.  Bannister leaned comfortably against the door frame of his Emporium, watching as they dismounted and brushed off the worst of the traildust.  Prometheus looked up from where he sat on the broadwalk and whispered to the black store owner, "I like 'em."

          "You don't know them yet, Prometheus."

          "I don't have to know 'em.  I just like 'em."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Heyes, you see those two over there watchin' us?"

          "Uh-huh, and there's two more across the street at the Emporium."

          "I say we get back on these horses and ride right on outta here."

          "Now, Kid, we already talked this out.  We're going through with this… one way or another."

          "I guess you're right.  'Sides, here they come."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Well, we can't wait around here all day, us lookin' at them, them lookin' at us. Come on," Brodie said, pushing himself up and heading over to where Heyes and Curry stood, using the two horses for effective cover.  They tensed, but only Brodie's instincts told him so.  They were good.

          "Gentlemen, on behalf of the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside, I'd like to welcome you to our town," Brodie greeted.  "I know you're expecting a friend of a friend, but he's late.  Why don't you come with us?  There's no reason to stand out here a'waitin'."

          Heyes watched the way the four men moved.  These were no ordinary townsfolk.  They were hard, skilled men, self-assured and probably with good reason. He nodded, watching the Kid's expression from the corner of his eye.  Only one wore a gun.  The largest held a rope, working it in his hands to make it pliable, and the black man watched the proceeding silently while he puffed contentedly on a cigaro.  The last was harder to read, Mexican maybe, Heyes decided, but he looked deadly as a big cat.

          The group walked a short way to a large two-story house complete with well-tended lawn and a maple tree in the front yard.  Heyes and Curry entered and looked around the interior, appreciation clear in their open expressions.

          "Make yourselves at home, Mr. Heyes, Mr. Curry," Bannister said as he closed the front door.  The pair stiffened.

          "By the way, who's who?" the large man with the rope asked.

          "Bannister, Prometheus, you're goin' to spook our guests," Brodie scolded.  "Look, I'm Brodie Hollister, this here is Bannister, owner of this place."  He nodded across the room.  "Prometheus there with the rope—"

          "I'm also the town veterinarian, if you ever need my services."

          The pair nodded, holding their smiles in check.

          "And that's Vargus."

          "A pleasure," the dark-haired man said, bowing slightly at the waist.

          "We're the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside," Brodie concluded.

          Heyes moved forward to where a chess board sat with two empty chairs facing each other in silent challenge.  He sat down and studied the board for a moment.  A game was in progress.  He nodded at the intricacy of the strategy.

          These men felt right.  They felt like they might understand Curry and himself.  They felt… comfortable, almost familiar.  At the same time it was clear something was wrong, something that affected these men profoundly.

          Heyes looked up, meeting Brodie's steady gaze.  "I'm Hannibal Heyes, and this is my partner, Jed Curry.  We're pleased to meet you, and not just a little intrigued."

          "Good, that's what I was hoping to hear."

          Heyes stood at he unexpected voice, reaching for his gun, but the flash of a knife blade springing into Vargus's hand stopped him.  Curry had drawn his gun only to find Brodie's trained on him an instant later.  The man was fast.  Curry wouldn't forget.

          "Sorry," the Kid said, holstering the colt.  Brodie did likewise.

          "I apologize for the sudden entrance, gentlemen," Governor Summerhayes said, "but I had to come in the back way."

          The Governor shook hands with both men, then motioned them to sit.  They complied.

          "We're ready for an explanation, Governor," Heyes said.

          "Well, boys, it's like this.  I need some help for a special job."

          Curry glanced at the four men.  "And these gentlemen are busy?"

          Summerhayes smiled.  Like recognized like.  "No, but they are… popular, in these parts, shall we say.  I need some fresh faces."

          "What's the job?" Heyes asked, wanting the details.

          "I need you two to infiltrate a prison that's being used as a waystation for the illegal distribution of opium in California."

          Heyes paled.  "Prison?"

          "I think I'm losin' interest real fast," Curry mumbled.

          "Now, hold on, boys.  We really do need your help," Prometheus said.  "We don't ordinarily work with criminals unless there's—"

          "Prometheus," Brodie cut him off, the tone of his voice commanding him to silence.

          "I know this is a difficult thing to ask you boys," Summerhayes said, his tone placating.  "You've been working hard for a number of years to stay out of prison, but only one of you really has to go inside."

          "What will the other one be doing?" Heyes asked suspiciously.

          "He'll be a prison guard."

          Heyes and Curry glanced at each other, their expressions drawing smiles from the other men.  They were rather reminiscent of Zeke's when he'd eaten too much watermelon and ice cream at the Fourth of July picnic.

          Heyes looked at the Governor.  "Why do we need to do this?"

          "Well," the man said, "It's like this, boys…"  Summerhayes launched into an explanation.  "…so you see, Carson is taking delivery of the opium and then selling it to several disreputable opium houses in San Francisco.  We know he's using the prison as the storage facility.  What we haven't been able to figure out is how he moves the drugs out of the prison.  Several prisoner work-crews go in and out each day, supplies are delivered… there's several ways he could do it.  We had a man go in two weeks ago as a guard, but we haven't heard anything from him for the last week.  I sent another man in – as a prisoner awaiting my pardon – to check on the first.  Number two ended up dead.  Accident, they said.  Seems a mule kicked him in the head."

          "And you want us to go in and find out how Carson moves the opium.  That's all?" Heyes asked.

          "And find Sutton, if he's still alive.  I can't send in local people since Carson would recognize them, including these gentlemen.  But, if Hannibal Heyes were to go to prison for six months prior to his extradition to Wyoming, Carson wouldn't suspect a thing.  After all, you **are** a wanted felon.  Curry can go in as a guard – he can use the Thaddeus Jones alias."

          "And how do we get out once we got this information?" the Kid asked.

          "We'll be close by," Brodie explained.  "When Heyes gets the information, Curry can contact us and we'll arrange for a small prison break."

          "This isn't going to look good on my record," Heyes said.  "Breaking out of prison?"

          "Don't worry, no one but us will know about that," the Governor reassured him.  "I've already talked with Moonlight about this.  You'll get your amnesty.  The Wyoming legislature can't say no if the state of California honors the two of you as reformed criminals who are now working for the law here in the Golden State."

          Heyes thought for a moment.  It was a golden opportunity to finally get their amnesty, not to mention win the good will of the Governor of California.  It was dangerous, but so was dodging posses and bounty hunters day after day.  "Well, Kid?" he asked.

          The blond nodded.  "Guess we don't really have a choice.  I'm as tired as you are, Heyes.  Let's do it."

          The dark-haired outlaw proffered his hand.  "Governor, you've just made yourself a deal."

          The men watching smiled and nodded.  "Welcome to the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside, boys," Brodie said.  "Honorary members."

          Heyes and Curry grinned.  "Feel a little… odd," the Kid added.  "Being on this side of the law."

          Brodie nodded.  "We wanted you to make the decision first," he started, then paused to clear his throat.  "Ya see, Sutton's my son, boys, so this is very important to us."

          Heyes and Curry nodded, the mystery finally revealed.

          "We'll do our best," the Kid assured the man.

          "That is all anyone can ask," Vargus said.

          Brodie and Bannister nodded, and Prometheus smiled, saying, "See, I told you I liked them!"

          "I don't suppose you happen to have the floorplans for this prison?" Heyes asked.

          Summerhayes looked a little taken aback, but then he said, "No, but I'll have them for you tomorrow."

          "Well, gentlemen," Bannister said, "why don't we celebrate this collaboration with a drink?"

          Heyes and Curry agreed readily.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "So, you're Hannibal Heyes, hmm?"  Warden Carson stalked around the seated outlaw.

          "I'd like to say no," Heyes replied, "but it's a little late for that."

          The man chuckled.  "Too true.  Well, it's only six months here, then I see we'll be extraditing you back to Wyoming."

          "That's what they tell me."

          "I won't have to be on guard against your gang and Kid Curry trying to pull off your escape, will I?"

          Heyes shrugged, glad the man had brought the concern up himself.  They were relying on that fear to spark the hiring of new guards, hopefully Curry among them.  The ex-outlaw smiled to himself.  The Kid had looked downright grumpy the last time he saw him – sitting up to his neck in a bubble-filled bathtub while Bannister's Oriental helper dyed his blond hair black.

          "Well, Mr. Heyes, all I can say is, no one has escaped from Dockman Prison – ever.  You do as you're told and we'll part on good terms in six months."

          Heyes nodded again, a small smile tugging at his lips.  The warden shifted uncomfortably as he nodded for the guard to take Heyes out.

          Ronald Carson waited until he was sure Heyes was well down the hall before he turned to his chief guard, Web Masterson.  "I want you to hire a few more men for the yard, just in case we get trouble from Mr. Heyes' men."  The tall blond inclined his head.  "I want you to move the boy, too."

          "That a good idea?  No one knows he's still here.  If we move him, the whole damn population here will know about it inside of a day."

          Carson sighed and stalked over to pour himself a glass of brandy.  "I should've had you take him out and bury him."

          "I could arrange that."

          "No, no.  Not until I know how much he knows, and who he told.  Until then I need him alive."

          "If you'd just let me work on him, I could get that information for you."

          The warden scowled at the guard.  "I abhor violence, Web.  Still, I must know if he's put all the pieces together.  We'll give him a while longer to think about the inevitable, then I'll turn him over to you.  I need the information, and you've proved an inability to obtain that sort of thing without delivering a body before the necessary knowledge."

          The guard smiled.  "Sorry."

          "Yes, I'm sure you are."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry sipped on his beer and watched the assortment of drifters and locals wander through the bar.  The flyers for positions at Dockman Prison had drawn a collection of men the outlaw thought were better candidates on the whole for residency in the prison rather than employment.  The noise level fell off rapidly and Curry shifted in his chair so he could see the cause.  A tall, very muscular blond man stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.

          "You men who want to work at Dockman, come with me."  He turned and walked away.

          Curry sighed and pushed himself out of the wooden chair, hoping Heyes was having a more interesting time than he was.  Walking outside, he saw that there were about fifteen men standing in a group in front of the tall blond.  He walked over to join them.

          "First off, have any of you ever been arrested?"  A few of the men looked away.  "Well, if'n you have, you can leave now 'cause you're wastin' my time and yours."  Five of the men wandered off.  The recruiter looked over the remaining ten men.  "Any of you married?"  Three men nodded they were.  "You can leave, too.  We work long hours and the womenfolk tend to do too much belly-achin'."  The three headed back for the saloon.  "Follow me," he told the rest.

          They walked down the dusty street to the livery stable.  Curry noticed they were all wearing sidearms.  The tall blond walked over and hefted several old cans.  The Kid watched, wondering what he was going to ask them to do.  He didn't wonder long.

          "Line up, boys.  I'll toss a can in the air.  You shoot it twice before it hits the ground."  The men shifted into a line, Curry taking up the last position, wanting to see how the rest of the recruits would do.

          The first three men could only hit the thrown can once.  The fourth man, an older auburn-haired cowboy plugged it twice.  Number five and six both missed the can altogether and the blond told them to leave.  Then it was the Kid's turn.  The man tossed the can up.  Two shots rang out, the can jumping twice.

          The first three men repeated the process, two missing both shots and one hitting it once for a second time.  The recruiter dismissed the two who missed.  "Well, it looks like you three are the men I'm looking for," he told the rest.  "Get your gear and be back here in twenty minutes."

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

          Heyes walked into the barren cell, jumping slightly as the door clanged shut behind him.  There were men sitting quietly on their bunks in the two cells on either side of him.  The guard rattled the door to make sure it had locked, then left.  Heyes walked over to the narrow bunk and plopped down, wishing he'd never agreed to the arrangement.  There was something very depressing about a cell.

          _I hope you know what you're doing, Summerhayes_ , he thought to himself.

          One of the prisoners rose and walked over to the bars separating he and Heyes' cells.

 

          "Howdy, Heyes, how are you and the Kid these days?"

          Hannibal's head came up with an audible pop as his neck vertebra shifted.  He stared at the gray-haired man who had spoken.  "Marty?"

          The man nodded.

          "Well, I'll be damned.  I thought you headed off for Philadelphia!"

          "I did," the man said with a sad smile.  "Lasted about a month.  Like the Kid said, dustiest damn place there is.  I headed back West, heard you and the Kid had quit.  I ended up in San Francisco, got me a stake panning in the hills, but got caught up in a get rich con…  The guy who tried to cheat me ended up with a knife in his back.  The local sheriff thought I did it."

          Heyes grinned.  Marty Riggs was an expert with a knife, not to mention a handgun, a rifle, and probably seeral other weapons Heyes didn't know about.  Riggs had always lived by his own code, killing men while on both sides of the law.  If he was going to kill a man who had cheated him, he wouldn't stab him in the back.  They had convicted the wrong man.  "Damn lucky they didn't hang you."

          He nodded.  "Probably would have, but the man wasn't well thought of in the community.  I guess they figured that whoever killed him did 'em a favor, so they decided not to hang me."

          Heyes grinned.  "It's good to see you, Marty," he said sincerely. 

          "How they'd finally catch you?  They get Curry, too?"

          "Naw.  Me and the Kid split up a couple months back.  I headed for San Francisco. Would you believe a bartender at one of the casinos recognized me?  I was just sitting there, playing poker, making a good-sized stake and the next thing I knew the local sheriff had a gun in my ear."  Heyes shook his head.  The whole thing had been staged, but it had felt too real for his tastes.  "One of the men at the table claimed I was cheating, so here I am… for six months."

          "Then what?"

          "Then they send me back to Wyoming and another prison cell for twenty years."

          "Tough break.  They oughtta know that Hannibal Heyes doesn't have to cheat at cards."

          Heyes shook his head.  "Don't you hate it when the law makes mistakes like that?"  The two men chuckled.  "Hey, how long you been here now?"

          "Five months."

          Heyes rose and walked over to stand next to the bars, dropping his voice so only the two of them could hear.  "You know anything about a young guard, blond kid, who worked here for a while?"

          Riggs raised an eyebrow.  "Careful, Heyes, you're walking a damned dangerous trail there."

          "Is he alive?"

          Riggs nodded.

          "Here?"

          "Solitary."

          "How do I get in there?"

          "Get in trouble," Marty replied, his expression curious.  "Shouldn't be a problem for you, Heyes."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry and the other two men rode back to Dockman Prison in silence.  When they arrived they were given uniforms, shown to a bunkhouse and told where to store their gear.  After lunch they were given a tour of the prison; the Kid looked for Heyes, but didn't see him.  Their duties were carefully explained and after dinner they were told to mingle and meet the rest of the guards they would be working with.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes walked along, carrying two buckets of water destined for the large pots heating for the weekly laundry.  After four days he had the routine of the camp down as clearly as a train schedule on a targeted line.  Most of the prisoners were sent out to work in one of three groups, although there were always a few men held back to do chores at the prison itself.  Company A worked for the local ranches, picking crops, mending fences, and whatever else needed to be done.  Company B was working on a wagon road through the foothills, and Company C was sent out daily to cut lumber.  Marty had spent time in both A and B Company and never seen anything suspicious, so Heyes was inclined to think it was Company C where the opium was being moved.  He took special care to find out which prisoners made up that group.  And, for the most part they were in for more serious crimes, murder primary among them.

          He'd seen the Kid a few times, mostly at night when he helped pass out the food trays.  Tonight Heyes knew he would have to get a note to his partner, and with Marty's help it should be an easy matter.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry folded his arms over his chest and watched the men as they worked to clear the next section of the lengthening wagon road through the Sierras.  He had seen nothing to suggest that the prison was anything but just that.  Still, the guards who worked with the lumber crew tended to keep their distance from the others.  If there was something up, it was happening in the foothills.  He didn't bother trying to figure out how they might be running an opium smuggling ring there, that was for Heyes to do.  All he wanted now was the chance to read the note he'd received last night again.

          He smiled.  It had been an artful diversion.  Curry had been surprised to see Marty Riggs sharing the cell next to Heyes, but the fact that the man had failed to recognize him until last night meant he was relatively safe with his disguise.

          He and another of the new guards worked their way down the rows of cells, sliding the trays laden with a plate of near edible food and cup of coffee under the cell door.  When he reached Heyes' cell and slid the tray in, Heyes tipped it over with the toe of his shoe.

          "Hey, look what you did!" he yelled at Curry.  "I want another tray, if you please."

          "Well, I don't please," the Kid growled as he walked to Marty's cell and bent over to slide his tray under the door.  When he stood up he felt Riggs' hand snatch his shirt front, jerking him up against the bars.  Curry felt the note being slipped into his pocket as the man said, "Just because we're on this side of the bars don't mean you have the right to treat us like animals."

          Blue eyes locked on blue and Curry saw the flicker of recognition.  "Got a point," he said.  "But if you don't let me go, I'll see you spend a couple of days in a sweat box… friend."

          Riggs released him.

          Heyes lounged against the bars while Curry slid a second tray in.  "Thanks."

          Two of the other guards walked over to dip a cup of water from the barrel at the back of the supply wagon.  Curry reached in and removed the note, quickly unfolding and reading the contents for the fifth time:  Logging crew the ones to watch.  Sutton in solitary.  Check condition if you can.

          Simple and to the point.  If Heyes wanted him to check on Sutton, then his partner was going to try and find a way onto the logging crew.  Replacing the paper unnoticed, the Kid hoped Heyes' silver tongue would be up to the challenge.  The Kid just wished he knew why he was feeling so skittish.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "You wanted to see me?" the Warden asked.  "I usually don't see prisoners, but I made an exception in your case, Mr. Heyes."

          "I appreciate that, Warden.  I really do."

          "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

          "Well, I've been thinking about your operation here."

          "My operation?"

          "It seems to me, if you wanted to keep this all a secret, you'd be a little more careful about maintaining a little consistency with your crews."

          "Would you care to explain?"

          Heyes smiled thinly.  "Well, all the crews, except the lumbering men, are rotated on a regular basis.  Now, is that any way to keep your activity from drawing attention to itself?"

          "That work requires specific skills, Mr. Heyes.  Not every man here can cut trees the way they need to be cut for shipment to San Francisco."

          Heyes rose.  "I see.  Well, it's your neck, isn't it?  But if I noticed it after a few days, how many others do you think have figured it out?  How long would it take men watching this place to know where to focus their attention?"

          "There's no one watching this prison, Mr. Heyes.  There's no reason for them to."

          "Have it your way."  Heyes maneuvered past Masterson, the blond guard, and left.

          "What do we do now?" the man asked when Heyes closed the door.  "Kill him?"

          "No, no, no.  We can't dispose of Mr. Heyes.  Too many officials from Wyoming would ask questions.  No, we need another way.  I'm not sure how much he really knows. It could all be guesswork.  They say he's bright.  Maybe he's looking for a way in himself.  Maybe he'd be interested in a deal that would keep him out of Wyoming."  The warden paced for a moment before making up his mind.  "Put him on the logging crew.  But move a couple of the new guards up there, too, just in case.  Pick a couple you think will keep their mouths shut if they notice something."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes woke to the morning bell and rolled out of bed.  Pulling on his boots, he wondered if the Warden would take the bait.  He didn't like pushing the man, but not knowing what sort of shape Sutton was in made him nervous.  They couldn't afford to keep him alive forever.  Curry had been unable to get into the small, squat building housing the solitary cells.  There was no one in there, he was told.

          The guards arrived, releasing them from their cells and chaining each together in a line.  They shuffled out into the yard.  Heyes was pleased when Curry arrived to silently remove him from the laundry detail line and attach him to the end of the logging crew.

          The chained men climbed into the waiting wagon and began their ride to the woods.  Heyes noticed that the Kid and another guard had been added to the crew as well.  The warden was curious about him, but cautious enough to use more guards.  Before long he would have more to worry about, Heyes thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The new pattern continued for three days, and Heyes was still at a loss as to how the opium was being moved.  As far as he could tell it was a regular logging camp.  Some of the men felled trees, others removed the branches, or drove teams of horses that hauled the logs up to a loader where more men operated the hoist that lifted the logs into the long wagons.  Once the wagons were loaded they were driven by off-duty guards into town where they were loaded onto freight trains which carried them to San Francisco.

          It was Curry who finally supplied the missing piece to the puzzle.  Standing near the men who methodically removed the branches from the felled trees he noticed four men who worked a little slower than the rest.  What they were doing to the trees, he couldn't tell, but they finished one tree to the others' three.

          One day of watching with the Kid's additional information brought the entire plan clear to Heyes.  The four prisoners quickly hollowed out two small bowls in the tree trunks.  By replacing the top layer of bark, the work was invisible.  The men working the hoist made sure that those trees were on top of the piles in the wagons, ensuring they would be on the bottom when they were moved to the train.  When the opium was added to those holes was the next question.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Ingenious, very ingenious," Bannister whispered after Curry explained what he and Heyes had uncovered.

          "If you follow the wagons once they leave the camp, maybe you can find out where they're adding the opium.  They stop first at the prison to be weighed.  I guess Carson's worried about the buyers cheating him.  We'll watch that."

          "We will be like shadows," Vargus said.

          "Sutton?" Brodie asked.

          "He's being held in solitary.  I don't know how he's doing.  Only the head guard goes in, and as far as the inmates and the other guards are concerned, no one's in there."

          "Is there a way you or Heyes could get in?"

          "Not without raising suspicion."

          Brodie rubbed at his forehead.  "They can't leave him alive.  The longer we wait, the—"

          "We're doing everything we can," Curry assured him.  He could appreciate a father's worry.  "Once we find out where the opium is we'll be able to move."

          "He's right," Bannister said.

          "I know, I know," Brodie grumbled.

          "Sutton will be fine," Vargus said.  "I have a feeling."

          "Me, too," Prometheus added.

          Curry smiled.  "Oh, one more thing.  Heyes and I know a guy in Dockman—"

          "What?" Bannister interrupted.

          "It's okay.  He used to ride with us.  And he was the one who saw Sutton being taken into solitary.  But he's innocent.  It was a set-up.  I'd appreciate it if you could talk to the Governor about him.  His name's Marty Riggs."

          "We'll do what we can," Brodie said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes paced around the small cell, pausing now and again at the thin barred window to watch the silent yard.  For two nights he'd feigned an inability to sleep in order to keep an eye on the Warden's office across the yard, but, aside from the regular patroling of the guards, there was nothing going on.  Curry had managed to switch shifts with one of the other guards, getting a chance to watch the nightly activity of the camp as well.

          He yawned; a shadow caught his attention.  Crouching slightly, he watched as two guards walked over to one of the empty sweat boxes, lifted it, and carried it away. The ex-outlaws brow furrowed.

          Of course!  What better place to store opium than right in the middle of a prison?  He couldn't remember the boxes ever being used.  The prisoners commented that the Warden was something of a humanitarian, preferring not to punish the men in a cruel manner.  _But he can't_ , Heyes thought.  He'd have to take the opium out of the boxes if he wanted to put a man in.

          A few minutes later the two guards silently returned the box to its original location and faded back into the night.

          Heyes scribbled the information down on a small piece of paper and shoved it in his sock.  He'd pass it along to Curry in the morning.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Well," Governor Summerhayes said, "now we know how they do it – finally.  But we have to get Sutton out before we move on Warden Carson and the opium."

          "Can we get Heyes out now?" Curry asked.

          "Soon, I promise."

          "And Sutton?" Brodie asked.

          "You men will just have to plan a way to rescue them both.  But no one is to be hurt, is that understood?"

          Neither the Kid nor Brodie looked happy about that.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Mr. Heyes, come in, please.  Have a seat."  The Warden motioned to a chair and then continued pouring two glasses of brandy.  He handed one to Heyes.  "Mr. Heyes.  I have a proposition for you, one that I think you will find very interesting."

          "Oh?"

          "What would you think of not having to go back to Wyoming?"

          Heyes' eyebrows climbed.

          "Good, I see I've captured your interest."

          "And how would that be possible?  There are a lot of people there who want me to spend some time among them."

          "I can arrange for you to escape, Mr. Heyes, but you won't… escape, not really."

          "I don't follow."

          "I'll arrange it so it looks like you've escaped here.  That will eliminate the need for your return to Wyoming."

          "In exchange for what?"

          "Two things.  One, you go to work for me."

          "And the other?"

          "You get rid of a special problem I have."

          "How do you propose to keep me under wraps, working for you?  I have a tendency to get recognized at the most inopportune moments."

          "I have a friend who can provide you with proof of a new identity.  You can change the color of your hair, grow a beard, perhaps.  And I'll be there, to introduce you as Walter Brewer."

          Heyes acted like he was mulling the deal over, his mind racing with options.  Unable to find a reasonable way to decline, he looked up at the Warden with a smile. "I like the sound of it… Walter Brewer.  Why don't you tell me more about your problem."

          "I'll do better than that, Mr. Brewer, I'll show you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes squinted as he entered the dark corridor of solitary cells.  The heavy metal doors and thick walls had no windows.  He shivered slightly at the thought of spending much time in one.  The Kid would be trying to dig himself out in a couple of days, and it wouldn't be much longer before Heyes would join him.  If Sutton had been kept in one of these cells for two weeks, the ex-outlaw had nothing but respect and admiration for the man's strength of will.  If the boy was at all like his father, he should come out of it all right.

          Carson nodded to Masterson, who stepped forward and opened one of the heavy doors.  It swung open with a loud crying grate.  Heyes' eyes had adjusted enough so he could see the young blond seated on the bunk.  He had been roughed-up, but all in all he looked to be in good shape.

          Sutton glared at the three men.  "What do you want now, Carson?"

          "Just to introduce you to Mr. Hannibal Heyes.  He'll be talking to you about your friends on the outside."

          The two men exchanged sizing-up glances.  Heyes liked what he saw.  This man wouldn't lie down and give up.  That was good, because it might get interesting before they were able to get out.

          "Not now," Heyes said.  "I need time to think it out."

          "Heard you was a real planner, Heyes," the guard said.

          "That's what kept us out of jail and healthy," Heyes replied truthfully.

          "Take some time, but it must be done within twenty-four hours.  Once you decide how you'd like to handle it, let Web or me know."

          Heyes nodded, looking directly at the boy and wishing the blond could read his mind.  _I sure hope you believe me when I tell you the truth_ , he thought.

          Heyes walked back to the Warden's office and looked the documents over that Carson handed him.  There was a deed to a small ranch not far away, a bank draft for two hundred dollars and several other papers he could use to identify himself as Walter Brewer.  There was also nearly seven hundred dollars in cash.

          "I take it you're interested?"

          "Yes, I'm interested," Heyes said truthfully.  "But, tell me, what exactly will I be doing for you?"

          "Let's just say that I have several interests besides this prison, Mr. Heyes and I could use a man with your ingenuity and intelligence to help me keep them all running smoothly."

          "What did that boy do?"

          "He was sent here to spy on me.  He was careless."

          "I take it I'll also be responsible for eliminating problems like that in the future, as well?"

          "Yes."

          "Warden, I'm not generally given to violence."

          "So I've heard," the Warden said, the tone of his voice telling Heyes he had made the right choice in expressing concern over the arrangement.  "However, I do need some insurance that you'll remain loyal to me.  I don't foresee a need for excessive violence, but I must insist that you handle this problem to cement our deal.  Mr. Heyes, just what do you know?"

          "You're using Dockman to transport and sell contraband.  Since it's going to San Francisco and it's small, I'd guess opium.  You're sending it out in hollowed out logs.  Is that worth the cost of our arrangement?"

          Carson nodded.

          "I on the other hand gain back my freedom and a new identity.  A preferable situation to spending twenty years in the Wyoming Territorial Prison."  Heyes stood and offered the man a friendly smile.  "I'll tell you how I want to handle this… problem… this evening."

          "Fine.  There's one other thing.  I need to know who he was working for before you kill him.  I didn't think Web could extract that information without killing him, and I must know."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry paced across Bannister's oriental carpet.  "I don't like it.  They want Heyes to kill Sutton.  If it looks like he isn't going to go through with it, they'll kill him.  Carson knows Heyes knows about the opium, the damn fool admitted to it.  And there's no reason why Sutton should trust Heyes."

          "If we leave now, we should be there before nightfall," Vargus said.

          "Heyes must have thought this was the wisest course of action," Governor Summerhayes reassured Curry.

          "When and where?" Brodie asked.

          "Tomorrow night.  Heyes will talk to him in solitary, alone, and try to convince him he's there to help.  Either way he'll tell Carson he wants to take Sutton up to the logging camp, might as well bury him with what he'd come to see… something like that."

          "Clever," the Governor said.  "I hope he goes for it."

          "If not, we're supposed to be ready to move on the prison.  If Heyes rubs the back of his neck when he comes out, they're going to the camp; if not, we move."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes waited until Web closed and locked the door behind him.  Sutton sat on the bunk, watching suspiciously.  Setting the lantern down, Heyes raised a finger to his lips and motioned the blond to remain silent.  Whispering, the ex-outlaw explained.  "I was sent here by Governor Summerhayes and a group of men who call themselves the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside."

          Sutton frowned.  How did Hannibal Heyes know about his father and the others?

          "My friend and I agreed to come and try to get you out and find out about the opium.  We solved that problem, but you're another matter."

          "Why should I believe you?"

          "Because we're leaving tonight and it would be a whole lot easier if you trusted me."

          "Well, I don't," Sutton snapped.

          "I don't blame you.  Carson wants to know who you're working for.  I already know. Once I get that information I'm supposed to kill you."

          "So do it.  Why wait if you're so sure you know?"

          "Because I really am working with your dad," Heyes replied, "and Bannister, and Vargus, and Prometheus.  I'm going to try and get us out of the camp.  They and my partner should be waiting.  If I can get you up to the logging camp, it'll make the escape easier, and then we can slip back in here and grab Carson."

          "Why would a bank and train robber be doing this?  Or are you even really Hannibal Heyes?"

          "Yes, I am.  And Kid Curry and I are doing this so we can finally get the amnesty that the Governor of Wyoming promised us three years ago.  Now, get up, we have to make this look good."

          "What?"

          "Well, I can't very well tell Carson I just asked for the information and you gave it to me, now can I?"

          Sutton stood, but he was clearly still debating whether or not to trust the older man. Before the blond had much time to wonder, Heyes' fist collided with his chin.  The two men exchanged a series of blows before Heyes raised his hands and waved the boy back.

          "I think that should do.  Now, scream a few times."

          Panting, Sutton considered charging again, but something about the man cried out to be trusted.  And at this point there was little else the young man could do.  He grinned, then bellowed like a coyote had him by his private parts.  "How's my dad doing?" he asked when he was done.

          "He's worried sick and mad as hell."

          Another blood-chilling scream.  "Sounds like him all right."

          "Okay, lay back on the bunk and play dead."  Heyes stepped up to the door and pounded.  Web opened the door, his gun leveled through the opening.  "I have the information.  Let's go talk to Carson."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "The Governor of California?" Carson said after Heyes told him what he had supposedly learned from Sutton.  "Amazing.  I thought it might be Summerhayes.  Who is this boy?"

          "Brodie Hollister's son."

          "The Chamber of Commerce of Wildside," the Warden hissed softly.  "Very good work, Mr. Heyes."

          "Make that Brewer from now on, if you wouldn't mind.  I'd like to get used to it."

          "Of course.  Is the boy dead?"

          "No.  I want to take him out of the prison; even the walls in those cells wouldn't muffle a gunshot.  I thought Web and I could take him up to the lumber camp and bury him up there.  Hell, he might as well see what he came here for… seeing as it's gotten him killed."

          Carson nodded.  "Go."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "There," Vargus whispered in the darkness.

          Curry wondered how the man could see in the moonless blackness, but the faint sound of a wagon moving slowly down the narrow road confirmed the observation.

          The group of men waited tensely.  Brodie and Prometheus were on one side of the road, Vargus and Curry on the other while Bannister was situated a little further back down the trail.  The ex-outlaw took a deep breath and waited.  A high-pitched whine cut through the night, causing the two horses drawing the wagon to toss their heads and respond with their own protests.  The noise gave way to a burst of light that exploded into a shower of sparks.

          Bannister's fireworks did their job, distracting Web from Heyes and Sutton.  Curry watched his partner dive from the wagon seat, rolling over the edge of the road and disappearing into the blackness.  Sutton stood in the back of the wagon, a lasso circling him as Web reached for his gun.  The rope jerked back, pulling Sutton out of the wagon as a second firework exploded.  Vargus' knife stopped the guard from firing at Sutton.  As a third firework exploded, the horses bolted forward, throwing Web from the wagon.

          Brodie stalked up to the large man and drew his fist back.  Web offered no resistance.  The big man swung through, knocking the guard unconscious.  Curry and the others joined them on the road.  Heyes gave his partner a lopsided smile after they exchanged slaps on each other's shoulders.

          Sutton untangled himself from Prometheus' rope and walked over to his father. Brodie glared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight hug.

          Setting him back, his hands still on the younger man's shoulders, Brodie growled, "Don't you ever pull a fool stunt like that again, boy.  I'm too old for it!"

          They all chuckled.  "I'm sorry.  Really.  I thought I could prove something to you."  He glanced at the others.  "To all of you."

          "You don't have a thing to prove any more, Sutton," Heyes said sincerely.

          "Let's get this huntin' trip wrapped up," Brodie said.

          After tying Web to a tree alongside the road, they worked their way down to where seven horses waited.  Mounting, they rode back toward Dockman Prison.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Bannister leaned back in his chair, then raised his glass of clear brandy to toast the men scattered throughout his living room.  "Gentlemen, to the look of horror on Warden Carson's face when we arrived."

          They chuckled.

          "Amen," Curry said, increasing the sound to a laugh.

          "It was a good fight," Brodie said.  "I'm glad you boys were there."

          "Thank you," Heyes said.  For the first time in many years he felt like he'd found a place to belong.  Home.  The thought scared him.  Would Summerhayes be able to convince Moonlight to issue the amnesty?  If he didn't, he and the Kid would be on the run again, leaving these new companions behind like so many others.  Leaving Marty behind.

          There was a rap on the front door just before it opened and the Governor entered.  "Well, I see you're celebrating already."

          "It was a heck of a huntin' trip," Prometheus said.

          "That it was," Sutton agreed.  "But it took you long enough!"

          Summerhayes walked over an poured himself a glass of the brandy.  All eyes followed him, each waiting to hear the news.  When he finished, he took up a seat on the comfortable couch and sipped at the liquor.

          "Is there news about our friends?" Vargus asked.

          "Oh," Summerhayes said, leaning forward.  "I guess I forgot."  He grinned.  "Heyes, Kid, Governor Moonlight signed your amnesty this morning."

The room erupted in an ear-shattering cacophony of hoots, shouts and whistles.

          "And!" the Governor shouted over the noise.  "I'm formally asking you to stay in California – in Wildside – until the paperwork gets here and the press has some time to spread the word."

          "We'd be happy to," Heyes said.

          "Once the paperwork gets here, I'd like to talk to you boys about a simple little job."

          "JW, this ain't no time to be talking about that," Brodie told him.

          "That's right, because it's time to turn this celebration into a real riot!"  Bannister shouted, lifting his glass to salute the two men.

          "Amen!" Curry bellowed.  They were finally free.  He looked to Heyes, who was grinning like an idiot.  His partner just nodded.  It was the start of a brand new life…

The End


End file.
